Testing Theories
by smilelaughread
Summary: If pleasure is the meaning of life, Katie hasn't found it. It must be luck, then, that the first Professor of Philosophy of Magic is there to help her.


Katie sat heavily in her seat, curly hair bouncing at her ears, the sound of hundreds of conversations fading into a low din around her. She was enveloped by witches and wizards, unable to get up again without careful consideration. Trapped.

It was another Ministry Gala. Ten years since the end of the year was, absolutely, cause for grand celebration, but she still didn't understand the urgency of the invitation. She'd gathered that just about all of Hogwarts' students from Harry Potter's year had been carefully called back for one more perfunctory reunion.

What they'd neglected to tell her was that everyone was _married_ and satisfied with life. She was, it seemed, quite alone in the sea of clinking glasses and tittering laughter.

Her eyes slid to the name tag on the seat just beside hers, the only other one whose intended occupant had not yet arrived.

 _Zacharias Smith._

She cursed her luck. Then again, it was her own fault for agreeing to the night at all. Nothing good, she was certain, would come of it.

Harry gave a rousing speech that Katie didn't listen to. Nor, it seemed, did anyone else, because the conversations continued quietly. She was excluded, left to look down at her plate with the hopes that something would appear to distract her.

Her prayer was answered in exactly the wrong way when, amid the hustle and bustle, Smith pushed his way determinedly towards her table. _Fuck._

She looked away, not wanting to be caught watching him in the fear that it would encourage conversation. If things went well, he would hardly speak with her, but it was an unlikely dream After all, it was Zacharias Smith.

Merlin, she'd hoped never to see him again—in fact, he had been suspiciously missing for years.

As he sat, she ignored the curiosity that might have pushed her to ask him how he was, instead choosing to stare up at the small, decorated podium at which Shacklebolt was standing. His figure was a shadow at her periphery as he found his seat.

Obviously, she was not a good enough actress, because the moment he sat down he started talking.

"Don't tell me you're listening to that rubbish," he said, voice low but sturdy.

 _As though what you're saying isn't rubbish._

"It's nice to see you," she said vaguely, casting him a superficial glance as though disinterested. It was hard to hide the wariness she felt—like she was being cornered.

"Likewise. You look well."

If she was interpreting his tone of voice correctly, the shiver that travelled up her spine could be explained away with disgust. He was as revolting as he had always been, and she'd never even been friends with him, had hardly known him past the rumours.

He still didn't know how to take a hint. Katie told herself that if he kept talking, she would just have to _silencio_ him.

Didn't he know it just didn't do to talk during the Saviour of the Wizarding World's Best Friend's speech?

No matter how scripted and unenthusiastic.

"Your scarf is lovely—something like a flight attendant," he said.

A hand flew to the fabric around her neck before she could stop herself. She chanced a look at him, finding that her gaze got stuck for longer than she'd intended when she saw the playful smile on his lips.

"What does that mean?" she asked. "You aren't making sense."

"Flight attendants," he said, leaning closer to her now that he'd settled and draped the napkin across his lap, "help organize muggles as they get into aeroplanes. I'm sure you've seen those, at least?"

The cocked eyebrow, the patronizing tone, the way every line of his body was surging forwards to her—Katie had to bite down on her instinctive response.

"There's often a uniform to wear and part of it is a scarf similar to the one you're wearing." Two fingers reached to pinch at the silk scarf—red, predictable, but also her favourite.

She coughed, leaning back quickly so that he only caught a corner.

For a moment, it seemed that he would keep holding, the material stretching between them—a connection—before he released it. Already, she was frazzled.

It fluttered as it fell back into place and Katie found that she couldn't look away from him.

The silence stretched out. The scarf didn't feel hers anymore, tainted by his touch.

They stared at each other—Katie caught between a scowl and shaky uncertainty, Zacharias looking like he was contrite but somehow smug about it.

Just as the moment seemed interminable, heartbeats removed from time and suspended in tension that was thick like fog, applause erupted. The crowd stood supportively, ripping Katie from her thoughts. As an afterthought, she joined in, unable to remember who had been speaking and clueless on the subject of the most recent speech.

Zacharias just gave her a look, turning away from her— _finally_ —and joining the clapping with his own. Katie's ears buzzed as the roar grew and grew and there was an instability growing inside of her that she couldn't easily explain.

That, in turn, sparked anger, so when dinner was finally served, she quite emotionally filled her glass with the red wine that had been so thoughtfully placed on the table.

She managed to get through three bites of pork chop before she was interrupted again.

Zacharias was pierced by an icy glare.

"Do you still fly, Katie?" he asked. "I remember you were good."

Katie remembered that tactic. Flattery, he should learn, would get him exactly nowhere.

"I teach quidditch to children during the summer," she replied, purposefully reaching for her glass of wine and looking away from him. A signal that their conversation, their exchange, was over.

"Hmm…" he said, and her skin itched to know what he meant by that.

He was _infuriating_. She could feel the knowing stare she was receiving and the fork in her hand seemed to be cursed because she couldn't remember how to hold it properly.

Padma, who was seated to Katie's left, was a reprieve from the pressure Katie felt from her right. Mercifully, she asked some light questions about Katie's work and they chatted fluidly enough that Katie's neighbour could be ignored.

"Still not married?" Padma asked.

Katie bristled. "I'm not in any kind of hurry," she said.

"Of course not, of course, but I just mean that—I mean—don't you feel you're wasting time? Everybody else—"

"I'm perfectly happy to continue living my life as it is."

"Now, I don't mean to offend you," Padma looked flushed, throwing her long hair over the other shoulder and casting a glance at her husband, who was focused on his meal with single-minded efforts to clear his plate as soon as possible.

Katie attempted a smile. "Not at all."

Padma raised her eyebrows, as though she couldn't possibly believe that.

"Don't you think you'd be happier if you found someone?"

Red flashed before her eyes, blinding for a second. Katie wanted to stand up and leave—she'd obviously made a mistake, attending the dinner. It wasn't an accident that she hadn't been in touch with her contemporaries from Hogwarts in long years.

Horror of horrors, Zacharias chose that exact moment extend a long arm behind her and embrace her. Before she could do anything but shrug once and hope he'd release her, he addressed Padma.

"Your experiences are not others'. Do not presume to know how someone else perceives the concepts that you find essential."

"I was just—"

"If Katie is happy, it doesn't matter that she's opposing your view. Your opinion becomes erroneous the moment that you are not the subject, at least with this. Now, I'd like to pose a much more interesting question." He waited for a beat, grinning as though he expected them to respond in like. "How can we know that we're happy?"

Katie finally managed to dislodge his hand, though she found herself satisfied with his deflection of Padma's presumptions. Padma looked lost in thought, tight lipped and wisely deciding against continuing her line of questioning.

"Thank you," Katie whispered, stuck between wanting to understand why he'd said it and clinging to her pride.

"You haven't changed," he said, confusingly. "I think it's wonderful."

There was nothing she could say in response to that.

The authenticity of his praise was still questionable, though her skepticism was fading and slowly being replaced by the frightening realization that, unlike his recognition of her apparently static personality, she didn't recognize him.

Rebellion rose up inside her, a desire to fight—to ensure that they both knew where they stood. "You should know better than to judge at first glance."

"This isn't first glance, but that _is_ your fifth glass, so maybe you should leave the thinking to me." His eyes shot to her glass of wine, half-empty with no visible trace of the numerous refills it had received.

 _As though_ she'd trust him to do soothing as important as think. Katie snorted. She hadn't had five glasses.

"Fine," he conceded, indulging her. "However we've both changed, I will drink to living the single life. We have that in common, at least."

She didn't even hesitate, clinking their glasses together and trying not to make it obvious how her head was spinning.

"Where have you been, anyway?" Katie asked some time later. She was happily fed—the food had been delicious, though she was disappointed by the company—and slightly more in control.

As their dinner had progressed, somehow, Zacharias had been… pleasant, though there was a visceral desire to argue with him that bubbled up more than once. He evoked volatility, dangerous but not unheard of. She wasn't known for being one to keep her calm.

"Travelling." Zacharias said, shrugging noncommittally. "I've been doing some research."

Katie nodded, trying to piece together an image of him that was more complete than the one she'd gathered of him in school.

"Where do you work?"

When he didn't immediately respond, Katie caught his gaze and saw the hesitant smile. Immediately, her curiosity was piqued, and she didn't try to suppress it. Dinner was dinner and then she wouldn't see him again.

"I'm sure you have nothing to worry about." The words slipped from her tongue, smooth like the wine she'd been drinking. No hint of any fruitiness, she assured herself. Full bodied or not, she was dry. Katie blinked, trying to remember how to feign sobriety.

Zacharias let out a laugh like a cough. "I'm responsible for the first Philosophy of Magic class at Hogwarts, actually."

Katie's eyebrows flew up as she considered that. Merlin, was he stuck up or what?

"What does that _mean_?"

His grin could only be described as sheepish. "It's really quite intriguing," he said. "I've been learning some muggle theories—actually, they're quite intelligent. I only had to tweak some to apply to the wizarding world that we know."

Katie pursed her lips. "I'm not sure I really—"

"Understand?" Zacharias waggled his eyebrows, clearly excited. "All you need to understand about philosophy is that you won't understand anything. It's all about the questions."

He winked at her and a million questions wanted to burst forth from her. _Who are you?_

Laughter suddenly echoed around the hall, and Katie whirled around to spot Harry at the podium again. He said a few impromptu words about growth and learning. He also introduced Hermione again, red-faced and laughing as she carried a baby on her hip. A tall redhead shouted from the bar and ran forwards to join her as they introduced their baby to the wizarding world. A chorus of greetings to little Rose came from the guests.

"Our society can be beautiful," Harry said. "Our children's realities don't have to be like ours were."

Zacharias caught her eye and made a face at the words.

A surprised laugh came forth from Katie. "What is it?"

"Potter hasn't had any fun. He hasn't asked the important question."

"And what question is that?" Katie asked, rolling her eyes at his tone.

He lowered his voice, exaggeratedly looking around before leaning in closer. She blamed the alcohol clouding her mind for the conspiratorial way she mirrored his position, bringing them as close as they'd ever been.

"What is reality, Katie?" he asked. "That's the real question."

She thought for a while, wrinkling her nose as she considered the question. For some reason, her heart was pounding in her ears and the smell of his cologne was like a physical presence, warm and spicy.

"Everything," she finally offered. "Reality is everything."

He frowned at her, though the glint in his eyes told her he was only playing. Katie hated him, in that moment, for gloating. Why did he have to look like that but act the way he did? The broad shoulders and artfully tousled hair, the smooth cheeks, and the way his smile curved in a way that suggested more than amusement—something close to pleasure—made her heat up.

Or maybe it was the wine.

"That's a boring answer, you'll have to try harder." Zacharias sat back in his seat, locking his fingers together on the table in front of him before leaning onto his forearms. He cocked his head so that he could stare right into her with the full force of his gaze—straight through her.

She rolled her eyes. "If you want to keep my attention, you'll have to try harder."

Something in his expression twisted and fell, as though she'd disappointed him. She became aware of a sinking feeling in her stomach.

"That was rude." she conceded.

"Yes," he said, tight-lipped all of a sudden. "But you definitely made your point."

Guilt ravaged her, though she could hardly understand why. He was no one to her.

But he hadn't really been as she might have expected. Perhaps she was biased, prejudiced. It was hard to let her trepidation go, however, so she drank a little bit more wine and carefully dabbed the corners of her lips with the napkin, thinking all the while.

"Zacharias," she said slowly, "I think reality is… something we can never really know. Is that answer better?"

To watch his face light up and turn to her, brightened by an internal fire, was something breathtaking. He looked like a million words perched on the tip of his tongue, ready to form revolutionary phrases—like she had done something unbelievable.

"Some people do believe that there is a limit to what we can know—a saturation point, if you will. Will you dance with me?"

Katie's smile froze on her cheeks. "I don't dance," she answered quickly, lifting one hand to block her body.

He winked at her and asked, "But how do you know? Dance with me and we'll find out."

Hesitation gave way when he held out an arm to her. The next words he said melted into the noise around them when she found herself accepting his offer with a coy nod.

She could hardly control herself as the music played ever louder. Their approach to the dance floor was all she could focus on, though she heard a few familiar voices calling out greetings to her.

He held her in a sturdy grip, balancing her tipsiness out, grounded in a way that enabled them to fall into a rhythm. Their feet did not move around one another in a planned way, but somehow they avoided crushing any toes. Zacharias' other arm found its way onto her waist, settling and spreading a warmth through her lower back.

Insidious enjoyment curled inside of her.

"I did not expect you to be so good at dancing," he whispered just beside her ear. He was just taller than she, soft breath tickling the tip of her ear rather pleasantly. "You lied to me."

"As though you know anything about me," she answered, turning her head away so that his lips were no longer brushing her cheek, ignoring the way their hands were clasped and the way they had moved together so that she could feel every muscle of his against her.

She'd given in, the decision made without conscious approval from her mind. Her body, it seemed, was the decision maker.

"There you go," he said, letting out a small laugh. "I have you thinking like a philosopher now. We can't know anything, not really."

"Stop talking."

He obliged, twirling her with a flick of his wrist and bringing her close once again.

She was red-faced and grinning by the time they returned to the table, but he'd gone strangely silent.

"How long has it been since you've flown?" Katie didn't know why the question decided to worm its way out of her then, but she was determined not to connect it to the fact that people were starting to pick their things up and leave.

"I can't remember the last time I had a solid broom between my legs," he said offhandedly.

Katie let out a bark of laughter at the remark, caught off guard, and was pushed further in her amusement when he cast her a confused look. Understanding dawned, and then he was laughing with her, shoulders shaking and voice carrying through the din.

"I promise," he managed, "that I do pull. Often. "

She raised her eyebrows, mind busy churning out _very undesirable_ images of those situations.

"I believe you," she answered.

"You don't sound convinced." He began to sober up, though the lines of his face were relaxed, casual. "But I'll bet that the last time I had a woman in my bed was sooner than the last time there was a man in yours."

"Wouldn't you love to know?" Katie giggled.

Something flashed in his eyes, for a fraction of a second, and Katie had to catch her breath. The searing heat of his gaze had burned right through all of her gaiety and had left her with devastating desire.

He smirked, as though he knew what she was thinking. Katie wished for more wine.

"Are you suggesting there is a way to know something in this cruel world?"

"Not this again," she groaned, though she listened as he continued.

"If you told me a date, would I really know that you were telling the truth? Would I know anything more than I do right now?"

She thought for a moment. "I guess not."

"Katie, how do you know anything?" His eyes, beseeching, demanded an answer.

"I know I'm here because I'm talking to you…? That must be true."

"Aha!" Katie resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Perception, you mean? Our senses over those things you can deduce?"

"I suppose."

"Hmm." Zacharias flashed white teeth at her as he grinned. "If you were a philosopher, I'd take that as an invitation to… experience your last time with you."

Katie nearly choked.

Smoothly, as though she hadn't interrupted him, he continued. "Of course, since you're not, I'll have to take my leave. I have a floo network to navigate. Katie, it's been a pleasure."

She stood with him for some unnamed reason, chatting about the most inane topics as he gathered his things, tucked a donation envelope under his plate, and began to make his way back to coat check.

In that time, somehow, his departing statement, " _I do love that scarf."_ became, " _Do you want to meet for drinks sometime?"_

She wasn't much better. Her, " _You're an arrogant coward undeserving of my attention!"_ became, " _How does tomorrow sound?"_

***

In the hours between their two meetings, Katie questioned her sanity various times. She had never been so preoccupied with a man, but at least it was the weekend. She could sit indoors for hours on end. Imagining. Remembering.

The Zacharias Smith she'd once known should have been completely unapproachable. Not only had he gone to Hogwarts, but he was younger than Katie. He'd been immature in the worst ways.

His nose was upturned—she didn't even like blonds!

But he, like she, had an imposing presence. He demanded attention, demanded praise, asked for everything she didn't want to give with wide eyes and a smile that made her knees weak.

He was maddening! And not only because his philosophy talk was sure to be the death of her, but because he insisted on physical contact and proximity as he theorized, as he confused her with questions about the answers to questions she had never thought to think.

She was signing up for a headache.

Still, every nerve in her body burned as the hour they'd set approached. He'd given her an address to which she'd have to floo, promising to be there to wait for he. She didn't recognize her destination, though she expected little more than a hole in the wall.

That didn't sound like such a bad proposition, regardless.

She twiddled the fabric of her robes with two fingers, pulling the loose fabric a little tighter to her red and black dress. Why had she put so much time into getting ready? Her lips tingled from a lip staining charm, her hair was done up neatly, and she felt simultaneously ready and woefully unprepared for the night ahead.

She hadn't told any of her friends she was going out, nor had she mentioned meeting Zacharias Smith.

The hour chimed its arrival and Katie collected herself in the final few seconds before throwing powder into her fire and shouting out a destination. The butterflies in her stomach were not quelled by the flooing, nor did she appreciate that the floo point was full of other witches and wizards bustling around so that she could hardly move forward to look around. At least, she though, she'd landed on both feet.

He spotted her before she him, and she let out a surprised gasp when fingers clasped her elbow and tugged her, gently, towards a door to the right. The first thing she noticed was how the dim lighting made his hair shine golden in the light, the way the shadows aligned so the dimple on his left cheek was impossible to miss.

"Katie Bell," he said once they'd made it out of the densest part of the crowd, "I'm glad you came."

There was an aura of humour to what he said, but she caught something in his gaze that spoke of deeper fears.

"Did you think I wouldn't?" She smiled at him, looking up through her lashes.

He pressed his lips together for a moment, eyes flicking quickly between her lips and her eyes, and then settled on the line to enter the bar before answering.

"I hoped you would."

As they stood in the short line, Katie was bumped against Zacharias by some people exiting, feeling the hot solidity of his body at her fingertips while her mouth half-formed apologies and her heart raced. There was the scent of alcohol in the air and the buzz of voice upon voice.

"Sorry," she said when she found herself touching him for the third time, but he put an arm around her and held her there.

"All you had to do was ask," he joked. "I'm happy to oblige."

Inexplicably, her cheeks reddened with the insinuation.

"That isn't what I meant!"

He didn't answer and Katie found her desire to fight out of his embrace waning by the second.

She still didn't know exactly where they were, but upon being allowed in, Katie was hit with the sight of the rather large room on the other side. In the dim light that had no visible source but seemed just weak enough not to be helpful to anyone looking to see anything, Katie caught silhouettes walking around.

The air was liquid around her, viscous, but Zacharias held her tightly and manoeuvred them to a small table with two bar stools, empty as though he'd planned it. For all she knew, he had. The bar, just a few metres farther, was littered with candles that tossed the light of flickering flames onto the dry, wooden surface.

"Katie," Zacharias said, breaking the silence with his rough voice.

Caught in the middle of her thoughts, Katie looked back at him, licked her lips, and tried to regain her composure.

"Do you want a drink?"

Katie pushed herself onto one of the stained, ancient chairs as she thought.

"Whatever you're having will be fine," she answered.

He grinned. "Good choice. Don't we just have so much in common?"

As he slipped away, Katie shrugged out of her robes, finding herself too hot in the face of the cramped room.

He returned with a bright pink drink in each hand soon enough, pausing before speaking to look her over. A spike of self-consciousness was her body's response to the attention, but she waited patiently, preparing a small smile for him. When they locked eyes, Zacharias' were heavy, brimming with desire.

Katie cocked her head.

"Will you sit?" she asked sweetly, satisfaction blooming when he looked confused, blinking with his arms extended.

She patted the chair next to her.

"I promise the chair is real," she joked. "I can feel it right now. Though, to believe me, you'll have to come feel it, too."

He shook his head quickly and followed her advice without another word.

She loved being in control, and when it was Zacharias, the feeling was all the sweeter.

"What is this?"

Her initial impression of the pink drink was that it was too sour, and then she grimaced at the sweet aftertaste. He let out a laugh, though his next sip saw him through the same twisted expressions.

"I'd forgotten the taste!" He looked unhappily at his drink. "My memory betrayed me. I must have got two different drinks confused."

Katie lifted the glass up to eye level, peering into the opaque fluid as best she could. It was thinner than it looked, but—were those sparkles?

Then, like a kick to the stomach, she felt alcohol run through her. In the space of a blink, it hit, and she felt very loose all of a sudden.

"I think I figured out why you like it," she murmured, giggling.

Katie felt a hand on her wrist and looked back at Zacharias.

"You're beautiful," he said. "Do you always wear scarves?"

Katie stammered for a second, mind battling emotion as words struggled to form.

"Thank you," she said, words rising in her throat like bubbles, fragile, threatening to pop. If she focused really hard, it was just possible to see through the foam that had accumulated in her mind. "And I wear them often."

He leaned an elbow on the table, cuff of his shirt pulled by gravity to expose his wrist and some forearm, a sight she drank in as though it were a discovery. She swallowed hard, fighting to keep her hands flat on the countertop.

"Why? You're all flushed. It can't be comfortable."

Katie's eyebrows met somewhere between her brows as she thought. He was right, it was obscenely hot and the way he was looking at her only implied things so hot they might just cause her to vaporize. She might just cease to exist.

"They feel good," she said finally. "We're back to senses, so at least you win in that. That's your cue to talk about philosophy, can you tell?"

Zacharias smiled into his drink at that, a private sort of expression too gentle for Katie to feel good about catching. It still sparked excitement.

"I've been thinking," he began, "about magic."

Katie giggled at that, as though he'd said something funny.

He was not as amused as she, and Katie had a moment of embarrassment that quieted her. Jaw clenching as her eyes worked to focus and her hands released the fabric of her dress at her thighs, she watched as Zacharias shook his head in amusement—she hoped it was amusement.

"Muggles are so intelligent—so innovative!" he said. "But they don't have magic. Why us?"

Katie drew her wand from the pocket she had charmed into the fabric of her dress, placing it on the table between them.

"It can't be taught if you aren't magical," she said, "like the children whose parents want them to play quidditch without realizing that the child was never meant to leave the ground."

Zacharias pursed his lips. "But who gets to decide what anyone deserves? Why are we special?"

"We were lucky!"

He pressed his forehead against the back of his hand. "Why should the universe conform to us? How can it be true?"

Katie had no answer for him, so she took another sip of drink.

"It all comes back to the question of our origin and reality. What is the meaning of life?"

"It's too early for that," she chided. "When we get drinks at four in the morning, we can talk about the meaning of life."

"Is it something we will always talk about or does it have a concrete answer? Katie, how can we be so powerful but alone in the unforgiving universe?"

She found it hard to think, mind sluggish. "I don't think life has a meaning. If it did, we would have found it."

"Interesting perspective. You don't agree that we make our meaning?"

Katie considered it, weighing her superficial understanding against his suggestion and discarding it. "No. If anything, we should be greedy."

"A hedonist point of view?" He sounded impressed, if Katie was judging him correctly. He was so close, his words forming on her skin like ink that sank into every crevice and spread. "That's not a common one. People like to pretend they're altruists. Pleasure? Once, I might have agreed with you."

"Why don't you agree now?"

"Because I'm out of a job if I settle on an answer," he said. "And because you're so distracting that I hardly know what I'm saying."

"Am I tempting you?" she asked. "Is the offer of pleasure too great a test for your mortal willpower?"

"Are you offering anything concrete?" They were touching, shoulder to shoulder, his hand on her thigh, her hand on his cheek as he stared into her.

"No," she said. "But the only way you'll find anything out for sure is if you try it."

"You make a good case," he breathed, leaning just closer. Their lips were not touching but they might as well have been.

"Time to test your flying, Smith?" Katie whispered, shocked he could hear her, frustrated that he took the time to answer.

"I reckon you'll be doing the riding tonight."

Then, with no wine to blame for her actions, Katie forgot everything about the surroundings. Their lips met between them, submerging her in a world that she struggled to experience as fully as she could. Merlin, it was sweet, sticky like honey. Their lips moved achingly slowly, exploration renamed teasing because their tongues met just once, their breath lasting them enough to fool them into thinking they could resist coming back for more.

They broke apart.

"The toilets are just over there," Zaharias nodded his head. "We could just lock the door."

Breathless, laughing as he tugged her away from the table and away from their disgusting drinks, Katie suppressed the rebellion her mind gave against the events that were transpiring.

"Merlin, you're good at that," Zacharias murmured against Katie's lips, pushing her flush against the door. The merciful gods allowed for the small room to be empty and dark. The single stalled room was locked, the outside world barred from entering, but Katie couldn't have said how it happened because her mind stopped stringing events together in the face of pleasure.

It smelled, pungent, but she ignored everything except for the wall behind her.

Cold seeped through her thin dress, but the heat against her front was impossible to ignore. Katie's heart skipped a beat, cheeks heating as Zacharias dragged her back for more long kisses, slower and deeper.

A rational part of her mind was shouting obscenities inside of her, cursing every step she had made that had brought her to the filthy toilets and to submit to him after speaking for only a handful of hours.

Then, there was Zacharias. Zacharias, whose soft mouth was moving against Katie's like a revelation. Zacharias' lips, warm and smooth, slipped against her own, dizziness growing because of the overwhelming sensation of his mouth and his hands that had made it under her dress, cupping her thighs.

Katie burned for more, for everything. Her hands slid around Zacharias' back, slipping up under his shirt, nails catching against skin and eliciting a groan that rumbled through her as though it were her own.

Zacharias hummed and pulled back, eyes soft, hair untidy, and Katie's heart lurched at the sight.

His teasing fingers gripped her tightly as he lifted her so that her legs did not touch the floor but her back held her upright. Muscles twitched under fabric with the effort and Katie's breath was lost.

Then, with a strength that Katie couldn't fathom but that her body responded to very positively, Zacharias balanced her weight between one arm and the wall, reaching the other hand farther between her legs, searching.

"Shall I take these off?" She shivered as her knickers were teased with smooth fingers, catching along the edge of the fabric and pulling just slightly.

Katie nodded eagerly, gasping and dropping her head to his shoulder when the fabric was pulled back so that his fingers could brush against exposed flesh. As though he'd cast some sort of spell, Katie felt her cheeks flush with his gentle teasing, biting down against the noises that rose.

"You, too," she whispered, turning her head as he continued to support her, mouthing along his neck and alternating between kisses, licks, and bites. She relished the little sounds he made, the guttural, instinctual noises a sign of success.

With considerably less grace, and Katie liked to think it was because of her mouth and her exploring hands, he reached to his fly and managed to unbutton enough so that the trousers could be pushed down and out of the way. When he finally looked up at Katie, she expected to see mischief or embarrassment, perhaps, but Zacharias' eyes were dark.

"Fuck. I can hardly… you're so—" Zacharias ran his free hand up to rest on Katie's thigh, fingers lingering before dipping, reaching lower. "—sexy."

Katie tore her eyes away from Zacharias', impatient and feeling as though his words might set flames to her crumbling willpower.

It was going to happen.

"You've already got me up against the wall." Her words were met with a laugh and she kissed his throat in response to it. "What are you waiting for?"

"Don't you know?" He tried to sound bored, but urgency shone through. "This was all a thought experiment to test your theory."

"Oh, I don't feel tested quite yet," Katie said.

"Easy fix." Zacharias moved below her, hand gripping the erection that brushed against her, and Katie arched her back. He gave Katie a hard stare, as though daring her to stop him. It was a futile attempt, because she was willing and more than ready. Heat curled inside of her, body tingling.

"Good." She licked her lips, pressing her head back against the tiles as he manoeuvred his cock, shifting as best she could to facilitate the moment. "Oh, yes! Merlin—now, you'll have to be thorough. It won't do to leave any theory untested."

"Oh." Zacharias looked surprised for a moment, sounding satisfied in the short syllable, then he was surging forward, eyes fluttering closed.

Katie felt herself stretch around him as his cock pushed deeper, though she was wet and he was determined, and when he finally settled, any trepidation that had been lingering was dispelled. He felt so good.

"You're so ready for me. Fuck, Katie."

Katie felt her throat close up in an instant, and then his hold of her was slipping and her left toe touched the ground, but he was moving his hips and their tongues danced between them, teasing. Pleasure was present in the room with them, overwhelming, and she closed her eyes against the onslaught of want that crashed over her.

She wanted to be good for Zacharias, wanted to keep hearing that note of pleased pride, wanted him to look at her like he did when he talked about the things he loved, the things that perplexed him.

She didn't want their encounter to end.

"Oh, Zacharias," she gasped, "just like that."

Despite the angle, despite the way she was slipping and her dress was tight around her hips, despite his bruising kisses and grip, Katie's breath came faster and faster.

"You've always been so good, haven't you? Oh, Merlin."

Katie's brain was incapable of thinking anything more than echoes of his words, too preoccupied by the slide, the friction, and the heat.

She felt herself falling before she did, literally instead of figuratively. As his grip gave way and she slipped lower, she hooked one leg securely over his hip. Her left foot came firmly down on the ground, and then his hands were free and sure fingers slid up her sides. His hands found her breasts, brushing over them before sliding one down her stomach, and she maintained her grip around his neck, holding them together.

Through the fabric, her skin responded. Her approval was announced vocally, punctuated by groans against his shoulder.

She thought, in that moment, that she'd let Zacharias do whatever he wanted. It was terrifying and exhilarating. There was no humiliation, only blinding ecstasy. Only burning desire connecting every spot on her body that could feel any sort of pleasure.

"Yes, just like that," Zacharias murmured.

She clenched her muscles around him, feeling with all mindfulness the way his hard cock filled her, moving so rhythmically. Roaming hands reminded her that he was completely clothed but for the part of him that was buried inside of her. Their eyes met, each pleading with the other to give something more.

Luckily, Zacharias seemed to understand her like no one else had before, and a moment later he was pulling out of her, leaving her empty, then dropping to his knees and licking a long stripe from her hole to her clitoris, swirling with firm strokes as she gasped her response. Two fingers dipped inside of her, though she was stretched and loosened from his cock, and she bore down as he continued his oral onslaught. His confidence could be sensed in every movement, the way he never hesitated but never moved too quickly.

Her mind told her he was _enjoying_ it, and that simple knowledge was enough to force her hips to buck uncontrollably as she spasmed around his fingers. He stole her voice, tongue caressing her until she was too sensitive, until she pushed him away and reached her hand to his straining cock. Her fingers gripped the base tightly, two fingers looping around and holding him tightly.

She pulled her dress back down with her free hand, accentuating every movement, and then reached it up to his jaw. She waited for him to pay full attention to her, drawing time out as though it were malleable.

Holding the rough skin, she pulled him towards her as her other hand squeezed, slowly beginning to stroke up and down, making Zacharias whine low in his throat. She never stayed with one technique for too long, but her speed was just slower than he needed, she knew.

"What do you need?" she urged. "This?"

Her motions sped up, watching as his cheeks were sucked in with his gasp. Slowly, a sheen of sweat appeared on his brow, his cheeks reddening.

"Ye—Yes." He loved it, she could see. He was incoherent, mumbling unfinished thoughts that could only be translated to encouragement. Katie decided to indulge him.

"You're so hot and thick in my hand." Her sultry tone resonated with him, answered by a delicious nibble when he moved to recapture her lips.

Zacharias pumped his hips into her hand harder.

"You felt so good inside of me. Come for me, Zacharias. I want to taste you."

He groaned as she dropped, casting one last look up at him before swallowing around him, cock heavy on her tongue as she sucked, jaw working to accommodate him. His moans poured over her, warm and sweet, unlocking something inside of her that she hadn't known could be felt after orgasm.

More than she'd ever wanted to before, she wanted to make her partner lose his mind. Slowly, she built up the pressure, taking him deeper as her hands worked the length that didn't fit in her mouth, tongue adding a lilting melody to her movements.

"I—oh—fuck," Zacharias groaned, throwing his head back as he came. She swallowed hard, ridding herself of the bulk of it, but continued to milk his cock for all she was worth.

A moment later, he pushed at her head, bleary-eyed and grinning. She was pulled to her feet and embraced. They kissed quickly once, twice, and then finally broke apart, their pants echoing in the small room.

Merlin, what they'd just done. Katie's cheeks coloured at the thought.

"I don't have any plans tonight." He said, breaking the silence.

Katie raised her brows. "No?"

Zacharias grinned and shook his head. "You could, say, come to mine…? I have some more theories to test."

Katie laughed despite her moment of doubt. "I would love to see how a philosopher decorates his flat."

"How about exploring, instead, the way a philosopher decorates his bedroom?"

"I did enjoy our discussions, Katie—"

"Funny, I don't normally call sex a discussion."

"I agree, through you must admit that we had good conversations and brilliant sex." He looked unapologetic. "Coincidentally, my next question came up while we were together."

She was going to die if she had to answer another one of his arrogant questions. All she wanted to do was feel his heat again, close her eyes and be loved thoroughly and skillfully.

"When do you feel most alive?"

"Always?"

"I disagree. I think the distinction is important. We do so many things out of habit, but when we act on emotion, I find it to be the most authentic. Do you agree?"

"I don't know if I like when I act purely on emotion," she offered, thinking hard, "though I enjoy seeing other people act without thinking. It tells me a lot about them."

He grinned at her.

"I wonder, how does emotion feel when you can't see."

The next thing she knew, she was being pulled into his bedroom. Her scarf had been removed, exposing her skin to the cold air, and he had pulled it back over her head, tying it just behind so that it acted as a blindfold.

"If you take a step back," he said, "you'll feel the bed against the back of your leg. Sit."

She followed his instruction, heart racing because she wanted to trust him but felt nervous nonetheless. It occurred exactly as he'd said, and she sat carefully.

"Lift your arms as I pull your dress off."

She lifted them, shivering as she felt him approach. His words were soft in the empty air, but his touch was a happy comfort. Just the barest brush of his fingertips against her skin was enough to set her off again, to push her to arousal so that her chin lifted and her lips curled into a smile.

"Your lips are the same colour as your scarf," he said, breathless, and then she felt the material being lifted past her thighs. She rose up for him to pull it over her arse, then she was naked for his leisurely perusal.

"I want you to tell me," he whispered against her ear, causing a shiver, "any observations you make about sensory knowledge. I want you to _feel_ and come to know through touch."

"I feel exposed," she said. "It's exhilarating."

He moved around her, fabric rustling as though he was pulling something off. She hoped he was. She hoped he would join her on the bed without too much teasing before she lost her patience and ripped the blindfold off.

"Am I touching you?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No."

But because he'd said it, her awareness narrowed to every sensation against her skin. She could feel, like a ghost, trails of imagined fingers against her skin.

A gasp escaped her when his fingers landed just below her elbow.

"You're touching me now."

He traced a design into her skin with one hand, working his way to her shoulder, and his other hand found its way to her thighs. She tumbled when he pushed, falling against the soft mattress, and then bit her lip when his lips closed around a nipple.

Undergarments hadn't seemed necessary when she'd been getting dressed, and the knickers she'd heavily deliberated lay somewhere in that unknown bar. Her bare skin reacted sharply to the heat of his mouth, nipples forming peaks that he swirled with his tongue. Sharp pleasure connected her breasts, her mind, and the pit of her belly, swirling inside of her. Despite the blindfold, she closed her eyes.

"What do you feel?"

She searched for words with which to answer. "I feel—everything."

"How about this?"

His arm found its way under her leg, lifting it so that her knee rested on his shoulder. He must have been kneeling, then, but it also meant that his eye level was level with her exposed folds. Spread out as she was, she wasn't surprised when the first brush of his fingers against her found just the bud they were searching.

Fingers tweaked a nipple as the other hand rubbed small circles into her clitoris, and then his tongue and lips were replacing his hand and fingers were pressing inside of her.

"I feel like I have to choose what I want to focus on," she gasped, "there's too much feeling to acknowledge it all at once."

His tongue explored thoroughly, more leisurely than at the bar, and her back could relax against the mattress below her.

"Pleasure comes in waves, peaking and then receding."

It was getting rather hard to think, let along articulate, but something about his entire being urged her to be thorough, just as he was.

"I want more," she said, "all of you."

Cold air rushed to fill in the space he had vacated as he moved around again, and then he was on top of her. They tumbled as he pushed them over so he was on the bottom.

"Pleasure yourself," he instructed. "I want to hear it. I want to see it, even though you can't."

The things she was feeling were so new that she could hardly describe them, couldn't categorize them, and wouldn't dare have ever dreamed of. There was no shame, no desire to hide. She was with him and it was pure.

Merlin, it was delicious.

She sat back on her heels, one leg on either side of him, pressing her hands against his chest and feeling his cock against her arse. She ground down a little, teasing, and felt him buck up against her, solid as she remembered, his cock's shape obvious to her even without sight.

Lifting herself slightly, she moved so that she was directly above his cock and it was positioned just at her entrance. She was wet, body pleading for him to fill her, but Katie resisted that urge. Instead, she rocked her hips. Not even the blunt tip managed to slide in before she rose again, relishing his groan. She repeated her move, feeling the tension beneath her hands that told her he was struggling not to move in response to her motion.

"I feel in control."

She lowered herself again, slightly more, and tensed with the stretch. Maintaining her tight muscles, she dropped lower, lower, until he was completely inside of her. It was so comfortable, as though he'd been made to fit perfectly inside of her, and then they were both moving. Her thighs screamed, but her lips dropped mumbled words in harmony with his groans.

It might have been the blindfold, or maybe it was Zacharias, but Katie reached her climax and came over the peak with a feeling of enlightenment, as though bathed by a warm sun and embraced by the unknown.

She could trust him to fuck her properly, to reduce her insides to shakiness. She saw everything he had never articulated. She saw how hard he was working. She could feel every word of praise that he spoke, every spike of his pleasure as though it were her own.

Finally, he came inside of her, hot and thick, clinging to her with nails that dug into her skin, pulling until she collapsed against him, at a loss.

"Fuck," she whispered. "This."

He didn't answer for a second. "This what?"

"This—I feel alive right now."

He laughed and she heard the echoes, her ear against his chest. Her eyelids were drooping even as she felt his hand reach to untie her blindfold, and then, legs hanging off his bed, they drifted off to sleep.


End file.
